Going a Tad Stir Crazy
Who: Pat and Wesley Where: Avarice When: Thursday Night
It had been a long week for Patrick McConnell... he was still coming to grips with all the changes in his life, good and bad, and now he had learned of the very real possibility that Skylar might be pregnant. That softened the badness he'd been feeling since moving in with Gwen and Skylar, but he still felt it. So, to avoid looking mopey or broody around the girls, he decided to go to Avarice, and have a few drinks. Nothing too hard, just something to help him sort through things. Sitting at the bar, he found himself staring into his gin and tonic, just thinking about where life had taken him.
If Wesley didn't get out of that house soon, he was going to set it on fire. Seeing as Gwen and especially Skylar wouldn't appriciate him burning their home down to the ground, he decided to go out for a little while instead. He left a note for Gwen in case she came to look for him, and drove his car off. Somehow, he ended up at Avarice. He couldn't go to Caritas, because it held far too many memories, and this was the only other bar that he knew of, even though he stuck out like a sore thumb in it. He came inside and, after a cringe at the music, went up to the bar and ordered himself a glass of whiskey. He wanted something strong to sip at for a while.
Pat looked down the bar and saw Wesley sitting down. Part of him wanted to avoid Wes like the plague, as he was the closest thing Gwen had to a father, and feared getting the third degree from anyone at this point, because he felt he'd punch them. However... pity overtook that fear, because, damn... poor bastard had it even worse than Pat in a way. Sighing, the pitying part of him won out, and Pat walked down to Wesley and sat beside him, slapping a few bills down on the bar. "I'm buying the next round."
Wesley looked up and saw Pat, giving him a slight smile. "Thank you," he said to him as he got his drink and took a sip. He still wasn't too sure what he thought about the relationship b/w Pat, Skylar, and Gwen, but, it made Gwen happy, and it wasn't hurting anymore, so what did it really matter in the long run? "I see you had to get out tonight, too."
"Yeah. You could say that." He chuckled, patting Wes lightly on the back. "How you holdin' up, man? I'm... really sorry to hear about what happened."
He thought about that for a moment, and then finally just shrugged. "Well, according to Gwen, I finally remembered what a shower was used for, so apparently I'm improving." He still hadn't bothered to shave, though. Just didn't see the point.
Pat held up his right hand, which was still lightly bandaged. "Well... I mostly spent the first few days destroying things, and randomly punching walls. So... I see where you're coming from. Gwen hasn't slept in days, she's so worried about you."
He sighed. "I wish she wouldn't worry so much." Then again, he wasn't exactly OK right now, so maybe she should worry. He really wasn't sure about that. "I spent the first few days not really moving at all." Long enough to move a chair in front of a window, anyway.
"She's gonna worry, Wesley. That's just the kind of girl she is." Pat smiled there, thinking about her. "When she loves someone... she does it with all her heart."
"I know," he said. He loved her, too, and dreaded even the thought of anything happening to her. Of course, it had happened several times before, but it just seemed to get more heart wrenching every time.
He saw it in Wesley's eyes: they shared a common and very real fear. "She's gonna go after him, isn't she. The vamp that killed, well.... both of our girls. And try as we might... we can't do a damned thing to stop her."
"Not a damn thing." He took another sip of his whiskey. He knew that she would do that. The girl was too thick headed to really do anything else.
"I *do* love her, you know." Pat blurted out quietly, as if trying to answer the question he knew Wesley was thinking but afraid to put into words.
"Good, because I'd kick your ass if you were just using her," he said bluntly. The alcohol was loosening his lips a bit. He could tell by the way that the three of them looked at each other that it wasn't that way, though. "Especially with Skylar being...well, you know."
"She told you?" Pat asked, a little surprised. They weren't totally sure yet, and he honestly didn't know how much Skylar and Wesley actually talked. "I hope it's how it seems. We all could use a little good news."
"I'm neither blind nor deaf." No matter how much he wanted to be sometimes, with those things walls of Skylar's. "She's been getting sick every morning, and she's got that glow to her. I finally asked her about it today and she told me that she was buying one of those tests to see and making a doctor's appointment." He smiled a little. "About time for a little good news."
"I know we... don't really know each other well, but I'd like to change that. You're very important to my girls, and so... that makes you important to me." Pat said, trying his best not to sound like a moron. "As someone who knows what you're going through... if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here."
"I'd like to change that, too," Wesley said. Gwen was his daughter in all but name, and Skylar had become very important to him as well in the past few years. "I understand. I'm not too sure how talkative I will be about that, though."
"Understood. Totally. I... still can barely think about it, much less talk." He ran a hand over his bald pate, sighing. "Just making sure you know that door's open if you choose to walk through it."
"Even thinking is really too hard." At least Pat hadn't had to find Iris the way that Wesley had found Narcissa. If Wesley thought that he would live through it, he would have beaten Gwen to the punch, so to speak, a long time ago.
"He'll get his." Pat said, almost to himself as much as to Wesley. "For all the suffering he caused them... and us... and others... if there's a God in heaven... this son of a bitch will get his."
"He'd better," Wesley said, narrowing his eyes a bit as he starred at his drink for a moment. "If I have to give it to him myself."
"Amen to that." He blurted out without thinking. Aw, hell... he's sure Wesley had been considering it anyway... "I don't have one mystical power to my name... but if I had a chance? I'd take the bastard on myself."
"I'm not exactly carrying supernatural strength myself." He'd been born with a deadly accurate aim and had been trained for years on how to defend himself, though. He was no slouch in that department.
"Maybe I could just choke him out with a guitar string." Pat rolled his eyes there. "Yeah, great thinking, Pat. Leave the gun, take the canolli. Sorry... Godfather reference."
"Actually, a garrote wouldn't be the worst way to kill a vampire. Piano wire is better, though." You really shouldn't ask why he knew that. It's just that he had been taught *every* way to kill a vampire by his father, who was a bit of a...forceful person on the subject.
"I think I'm gonna like you, Wesley." Pat let out a little chuckle, wondering what awful things this line of thinking from either of them could really get them into. "Yes indeed... I think we're gonna get along just great."